


Sin

by Chan_redd



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Gen, M/M, Mention of Death, Religion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-23
Updated: 2017-08-23
Packaged: 2018-12-19 02:43:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11888262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chan_redd/pseuds/Chan_redd
Summary: I’ve always known that my love for Roxas went way past the boundaries of friendship.There’s nothing like being twelve years old and realizing that, while all the other boys your age were shyly asking girls out, all you wanted to do was hold your (male) best friend’s hand.





	Sin

**“I think he would want me to say to all of the gay and lesbian kids out there tonight- who have been told they are less than by their churches, or by the government, or by their families- that you are beautiful, wonderful creatures of value. And that, no matter what anyone tells you, God does love you.” - Dustin Lance Black**  
  
  
It was an hour before dawn and the ash from my burning cigarette was creating a light blanket of faux snow on the patch of dew-soaked grass beneath my hand.   
I’ve never really understood my compulsion to smoke, and I question it often.  
  
In all honesty, I really hate cigarettes.  
  
But it’s not the idea of smoking that draws me in; it’s the idea of doing something that society frowns upon. Picking up a habit that society has deemed as socially unacceptable is my own personal ‘fuck you’ to the people around me who feel the constant need to tell me how to behave correctly.  
Parents, teachers, and those morally-sound people with sticks shoved up their asses.  
You know the kind that always act as though they can walk on water but are probably jacking off to pictures of underage children in their spare time?  
  
Sorry. That was an image that no one wanted.  
  
Rebellion was probably also the only reason that I had my tattoos done. People always take a look at the purple, inverted-teardrop markings below my eyes and expect a dramatic story filled with angst and deep-felt emotion. Something along the lines of “the inverted tears represent the sorrow that I feel for the future of the human race and their inability to change their ways and become a better species. For the sake of the children. And the planet.”   
And sometimes I’m tempted to just lie to them and let them believe what they will.  
Tattooed tears representing the human race’s impending doom sounds better than ‘because I thought they would look badass.’   
  
Demyx was hosting another one of his ‘Let’s-get-wasted-because-school’s-over’ parties that he had become famous for. It was easy to gain popularity and friends when you provided a venue and free liquor. However, a house packed with intoxicated and obnoxious teenagers had already lost its allure to me.  
  
People are always quick to excuse what they say and do, when they’ve had a few drinks, with the popular phrase of ‘dude, I was so wasted.’  
  
But alcohol doesn’t make you into a different person, it just loosens your inhibitions so that you say or do what was in your mind the entire time. So, those beers didn’t make you tell your girlfriend that she’s a terrible lay, you just did what you didn’t have the balls to do when you were sober.  
  
However, I have found that a person’s true self is annoying to be around unless you’re drunk as well.  
I guess the unveiled truth is only tolerable when you can’t recall any of it the next day.  
  
The party continued behind us, the music blaring as loud as Demyx’s parents’ fancy speakers would allow, but we were seated outside in the biting cold. It was a ritual that we had created, Roxas and I, both of us for our own selfish reasons.  
  
I, because I craved any time alone with him, and he, because he hated the crowds that accompanied these parties. I had once questioned him about the matter, why did he go to these parties if they obviously were not his scene? His answer, as he stared past me, with no emotion visible in his cerulean pigmented eyes, was a simple statement.  
  
“Because being here, with a bunch of people I don’t know, is better than being at home with the strangers that I’m meant to know.”  
  
I didn’t question him after that.  
  
We didn’t speak much on the matter, but I knew that Roxas’s home-life had never been the sort that you saw in cheesy American movie.  
  
You know, the sort where mom and dad love each other and the kids are as perfect as can be.   
We all had demons, be it in the form of a broken family, financial issues or addictions.  
It’s probably why so many of these kids drank themselves stupid on a Friday night.  
Intoxicated haze, and the press of bodies that you don’t know, and wouldn’t recognise the next day, was better than the reality of life.  
  
“Why do you smoke those so fast?” Roxas asked, indicating to my discarded cigarette and breaking me out of my train of thought. I shrugged once before answering, purposely failing to meet his intense glare. Roxas had this way of looking at people; it unintentionally made you want to tell him all of your secrets and deepest fears. His gaze just conveyed the blunt and to-the-point manner in which he conducted himself. Roxas had never seen the point in lying, and many found his indifference and harsh words off-putting.  
  
I, on the other hand, relished in the fact that it was one of the few real things in my life.  
“Most people smoke to enjoy it. I smoke to die.”  
  
This announcement resulted in the grin that I had been expecting.  
It was an ongoing joke between us- death.  
  
Collecting creative methods of self-murder had quickly become our morbid hobby. We’d search through the internet, and explore old, yellowing newspapers for stories on inventive and creative ways of ending one’s life.  
To us, suicide was a joke and death was the punch-line.  
  
“You know what would be a cool superpower to have? Pyrokinesis.” I said, flicking my trusty lighter on so that the orange tipped blue flame danced in the chilly, winter air, “Seriously., controlling fire would be the shit.”  
Roxas’s tanned arm reached out and I watched his index finger cut through the flame quickly, taunting it.  
  
“You’re a tad obsessed with fire, anyone ever told you that?” he teased, allowing the corners of his lips to lift in the imitation of a genuine smile.  
  
Silence filled the air as we both played the part of the awkward teenager.  
Something was wrong and we both knew it.  
  
Awkward was not a word that could be used in relation to us; Roxas and I were such close friends that being around him was about as natural, and necessary, to me as breathing.  
At least, that’s how I feel.  
  
Roxas never expresses emotion when it comes to our friendship. I wonder sometimes if the possibility of losing him exists, and it scares the hell out of me.  
I’d never let him know it, but he makes me feel like there’s a heart beating in the cavity that is my chest. He’s one of the only people I know that stirs some sort of emotion in me, and the sad thing is that I don’t even think that he realizes it.  
  
I could see the anxiety that filled his eyes, but he still held his features in an expression of fierce determination. My eyes drifted down to the silver cross that he wore on a simple, thin chain that normally rested under the collar of his shirt. Right now it had escaped the confines of his sleeveless T-Shirt and the cross swung gently with every move that he made. Roxas wasn’t what one would call overly religious but religion was important to him.  
  
Churches and prayer provided him with the stable ground that he needed in his life.  
I realised, with a hint of surprise cutting across my normally indifferent expression that Roxas had somehow inched closer to me without my consent while I had been distracted with his jewellery.  
  
I watched, in confused silence, as he crawled over to where I was seated and brought himself up to rest on his knees in front of me.  
Roxas was short and I was abnormally tall, so a seated me was about the height equivalent of a kneeling him.  
  
I always found it kind of sick that the entertainment world always makes the whole ‘falling in love’ deal look so poetic. Because the reality of life is that falling in love is not the rainbow and glitter-coated affair that you expect.   
  
I’ve always know that my love for Roxas went way past the boundaries of friendship.  
There’s nothing like being twelve years old and realizing that, while all the other boys your age were shyly asking girls out, all you wanted to do was hold your (male) best friend’s hand.  
  
But, at the same time, also knowing that it was wrong, sick and unnatural because that’s just what everyone else told you.  
There was also the issue of his religion. I might not be religious, but there was no way that I was going to drag Roxas down in eternal sin with me just because I was selfish enough to love him.   
See?  
Emotional torment is so much more poetic than love could ever be.  
  
“Would you hate me if I did something incredibly stupid?” he whispered, bringing his face even closer to my own resulting in our noses almost touching at this point. My breath hitched, and I almost made myself cross-eyed as I took in the sight of his eyes looking so unguarded. My focus quickly jumped to his lips when, out of nervousness, he darted the tip of his pink tongue out to wet them.   
  
“No, ” I replied, bringing my hands up to rest on his bare shoulders and trying to ignore the feeling of his skin on my burning fingertips, “but you’ll hate yourself if I let you do this.” I gently pushed at his shoulders so that there was a significant distance between us.  
  
“Y-you don’t want me to do it?” his voice was timid and confused and for a second I wanted nothing more than to draw his body closer and show him all of the wanting that I had bottled up inside of me for all of these years.  
  
Instead, I held my ground and dropped my arms to rest on either side of my body.  
“I want you to, Roxas. Fuck, do you have any idea how many times I’ve fantasized about this situation? But if we do kiss, you’ll never forgive yourself for it.” I paused. Trying to regain the ability to breathe normally again before I continued.  
  
“Remember what you said to me? ‘Being homosexual is not a sin, the practice of it is.’ And you believe that.” I heard my voice crack as I fought the urge to cry, “So, let’s forget that this ever happened, okay?”  
  
Pulling myself up, I walked away from him. And as I disappeared into the party I kept telling myself that I had done the right thing, and trying my damn hardest to believe it.  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> This is reposted from fanfiction.net.   
> I wrote this ages ago, but it's always held a special place in my heart as my first real fanfiction piece. I hope you all enjoy it. 
> 
> (Also I'm pretty sure I stole that smoking to die line from Looking for Alaska)


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